


Baby's First Sniper Rifle

by Liritar, VeetVoojagig



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Adopted Children, Domestic Fluff, Home Life, M/M, Some angst, parenting is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 05:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2640164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liritar/pseuds/Liritar, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeetVoojagig/pseuds/VeetVoojagig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shepard and Garrus disagree on appropriate toys for toddlers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby's First Sniper Rifle

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired when I bought Lir a nerf rifle for being such a good girl her first day of dialysis. She's 30. But it did cheer her up. 
> 
> We had to write it. It was meant to be pure fluff, but Shep gets moody sometimes.
> 
> This will likely turn into a series. We've put too much thought into the kids and their situation to drop it here.

The instant he found the boxes he knew he wouldn’t like it. He’d been adamant on not starting the children on training yet, though he’d lost in the case of Tyla; not only was she twelve, and older than the rest, she was turian. She’d probably had a gun in her hand since she was a baby. 

But he wasn’t letting _his_ babies go through that. 

He grabbed the package from the table where it had been left—and he’d have to have a word with someone (again) about trash and where it goes—and stormed off through the house. “Vakarian! What the hell is this?” 

Garrus looked up from where he crouched on the floor with the two youngest of their adopted children, mandibles flaring in surprise. Both Emma, three years old with blonde hair, and Kordan, the two year old batarian boy, held small wooden replicas of the M92 Mantis. "What?" the turian asked, obviously having no idea why Shepard was upset.

Shepard crossed his arms, looking down at them. “I thought we’d said no weapons,” he said. He lifted the box he still held in one hand, glancing down at it. “Besides, this says, right here in, if your eyes are deteriorating, that it’s not suitable for children under five. Things could break off and choke them.”

Garrus sighed audibly and pulled himself to his feet. "They're _toys_ , Shepard, not weapons. You could barely hurt someone if you hit them over the head with these things. And my eyes are fine," he added, flashing the turian version of a scowl. "Our kids are smart enough not to choke on their toys."

“Babies aren’t smart. They put things in their mouths.” He wanted to rage and shout and throw things, and that was ridiculous. Shepard sighed and rubbed his forehead. Anger came more easily than it should these days. Worn pathways offering the least resistance. Garrus hadn’t meant any harm. He closed his eyes. “I just want to protect them from what we went through,” he murmured, dropping the box on the floor. He didn’t want them to think war was _fun._

"I just thought they were cute..." His lover's mandibles twitched, revealing his agitation. He reached down half-heartedly, as if to snatch one of the miniature sniper rifles from the children. 

Emma pulled her gun away from his grasp and scowled. "No!" It was her new favorite word.

Shepard sighed again and sank to the floor, sitting cross-legged and pulling the toddler into his lap. “You like the toy your father brought you?” he said softly, stroking her hair. 

If anyone had asked a year ago where he thought he’d be, sitting on the floor of a fairly nice house in the less populous areas of Canada, surrounded by children, getting upset about their playtime options, would not have even crossed his mind. A wry smile crossed his face. That was one way to put things in perspective, at least.

"Mine," Emma caroled happily, waving the gun. She missed Shepard's nose by an inch.

Garrus chuckled. "At least your skill at making yourself the best target out there hasn't died," he pointed out dryly. He dropped to the floor a bit more awkwardly and lifted Kordan into his arms.

The young batarian blinked all four of his eyes and tried to chew on the butt of the rifle, burbling softly. Shepard reached across and pried the gun from his fingers. “Thank you for arming our children,” he said dryly. “I knew there wasn’t enough danger in my life anymore.” He smiled, though, as he bounced Emma on his knee. “Be careful with that, sweetie,” he said kindly. “You don’t want to hurt anyone by accident.” 

The young girl blinked up at him as if to question that statement, then wrapped her arms around the toy. It was obvious she'd throw a fit if it were taken from her.

Garrus, on the other hand, was nibbling on his left mandible. "Are you going to be angry that I got some for the boys as well?" he asked after a moment.

All Shepard could do was laugh. “Hell, they’re over five and won’t choke,” he said, shaking his head. “And if they can get themselves in trouble with a few sticks out in the backyard, I don’t see how this could be worse.” The twins were incredibly imaginative. Shepard had to be proud. The alternative was beating his head against the wall.

He gave Garrus an apologetic look. “I overreacted,” he said quietly. “I… I do that sometimes.” 

Garrus reached out over their children's heads, gently touching Shepard's cheek with one taloned hand. "You're just being human," he said softly. Though, from a turian, that statement sounded ambiguous.

“Right,” Shepard answered dryly, putting his hand up to cover the turian’s, “and we’re all fucking crazy.” He chuckled softly and leaned into his touch, closing his eyes. “I love you, you ugly turian bastard,” he murmured quietly. 

A soft snort fell from Garrus. "The kids will pick up saying that and cause some kind of diplomatic incident," he drawled.

Eyebrows flew upward. “Well, maybe that’ll teach people not to use my kids as political pawns,” he answered, his voice, while even, holding the weight that anyone familiar with Shepard would know was threatening. 

Garrus raised his hands slowly. "Hey, sweetheart, I was joking. I'm not going to be shoving the kids in front of news cameras or anything."

Shaking his head, Shepard pulled himself out of his darkening thoughts. “Not you,” he murmured. “Never you. I know that.” He reached over, taking one of those taloned hands in his and squeezing tightly. He drew in a deep breath. “Sorry. It’s all right now.” He gave a weak smile. 

Shepard's hand was drawn to Garrus's mouth, an affectation he'd picked up from human vids to amuse Shepard. "Are you sure?" Garrus asked softly, gazing at his lover in concern. It was no secret that Shepard's worsening melancholy worried him.

“I’m _fine_ ,” the man said quietly. “I promise.” 

“If you say so,” the turian said dubiously, but let the matter drop. If there was one thing he’d learned over the years, it was that Shepard won. Always.  


It wouldn’t stop him for worrying, or for searching for a way to make him feel better. But he wouldn’t argue.


End file.
